Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Harsh Rejection

The afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows of Beacon Academy's library, casting long shadows across the study tables where Weiss Schnee sat surrounded by tactical manuals and Dust theory textbooks. Her pristine white hair was pulled back in its usual side ponytail, and her blue eyes scanned the pages with practiced efficiency. The upcoming dance was still weeks away, but more pressing matters occupied her mind—namely, the increasingly difficult Grimm Studies assignments and her family's expectations weighing heavily on her shoulders.

She had finally found a moment of peace when the familiar sound of stumbling footsteps approached her table.

"Hey, Weiss!" Jaune Arc's voice carried that same hopeful tone it always did, though perhaps with a slight tremor of nervousness. "I was wondering if—"

"No." Weiss didn't even look up from her textbook.

"But you don't even know what I was going to ask," Jaune protested, his voice gaining a bit more confidence as he stepped closer to her table.

Weiss finally raised her eyes, fixing him with an icy stare that could have frozen the Emerald Forest. "Let me guess. You want to ask me to study together, or perhaps invite me to dinner in Vale, or maybe you've written another one of your terrible songs." She closed her book with a sharp snap. "The answer is still no, Arc."

Jaune's face flushed red, but he pressed on. "Actually, I was going to ask if you'd like to go to the dance with me. I know it's still a few weeks away, but I thought maybe if I asked early enough—"

"Are you serious?" Weiss stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor loud enough to draw stares from other students. "Do you honestly think that asking me earlier would somehow change my answer?"

"I just thought—"

"That's your problem, Jaune. You don't think." The words came out sharper than Weiss had intended, but the stress of recent weeks had worn her patience thin. "You never think about how uncomfortable you make me with your constant pestering. You never think about how pathetic you look throwing yourself at someone who has made it crystal clear they're not interested."

Jaune's face went from red to pale in an instant. "Weiss, I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what? Embarrass yourself? Embarrass me?" Weiss's voice rose, and she could see other students in the library turning to watch the scene unfold. "Your advances are disgusting, Jaune. This desperate, clingy behavior is revolting. Do you have any idea how it feels to be constantly harassed by someone who can't take a hint?"

The library had gone completely silent. Even the sound of turning pages had stopped as students watched the confrontation unfold. Jaune stood frozen, his usual goofy smile completely gone, replaced by something Weiss had never seen on his face before—genuine hurt mixed with what looked like dawning realization.

"You want to know what's really pathetic?" Weiss continued, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper that somehow seemed louder than her shouting. "It's that you're so delusional you actually thought you had a chance. Look at yourself, Jaune. Really look. You're a mediocre fighter, a worse strategist, and you got into this academy through fake transcripts. What exactly did you think I would see in you?"

Jaune's hands clenched into fists at his sides, but not in anger—in shame. His shoulders sagged as if her words had physically struck him. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at the floor.

When he finally looked up, his blue eyes held none of their usual warmth or determination. They were cold, distant, and somehow older than they had been moments before.

"You're right," he said quietly, his voice barely audible in the silent library. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Weiss. It won't happen again."

He turned and walked away, his usual awkward stumbling replaced by measured, deliberate steps. He didn't look back.

Weiss remained standing by her table, suddenly aware of every pair of eyes in the library focused on her. The satisfaction she had expected to feel at finally getting through to him was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was an odd hollow feeling in her chest, as if something important had just been broken.

She sat back down and opened her textbook, trying to return to her studies, but the words blurred together on the page. Around her, the other students gradually returned to their own work, though she could still feel occasional glances and hear whispered conversations.

"Did you see his face?"

"I've never seen Weiss that angry before."

"Poor guy. He looked like he was about to cry."

Weiss turned a page with more force than necessary, telling herself that she had done what needed to be done. Jaune would finally leave her alone, and she could focus on what really mattered—her studies, her training, her future.

So why did victory taste so bitter?

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of half-read pages and unfocused thoughts. When evening came and Weiss finally returned to her dorm room, she found Ruby bouncing excitedly on her bed, eager to share some story about her latest training session with Crescent Rose.

"And then I managed to combine the scythe swing with a speed boost from my Semblance, and—Weiss? Are you okay? You look kind of... I don't know, upset?"

Weiss hung up her jacket and began organizing her books for the next day's classes. "I'm fine, Ruby. Just tired."

"Are you sure? Because Yang mentioned she heard something happened in the library today with you and—"

"I said I'm fine." Weiss's tone carried enough ice to freeze a lake, and Ruby immediately backed down.

But as Weiss lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling while her teammates slept, she couldn't shake the image of Jaune's face in those final moments—the way his usual bright expression had died completely, replaced by something that looked almost like grief.

She told herself it didn't matter. He had needed to learn that lesson eventually.

So why couldn't she fall asleep?